Crossing Lines

As a child of Eleguá, every new chapter of my life begins with a crossing. He is the keeper of roads and the guardian of thresholds, the one who opens doors and closes them when their time has passed. Eleguá stands at the beginning and the end, and this chapter is the road he asked me to walk.

This move wasn’t random. The astrology was loud. And ya'll already know how much I appreciate the gifts of astrology for these very reasons. Gotta love Astrocartography, am I right?

Every major shift in my chart pointed toward closure, relocation, endings, and reinvention — not just emotionally, but geographically.

---

"If you are new to astrology or professh, you can see how these changes showed up in my natal chart. Use as a reference for your own:

Pluto in Aquarius, squaring my Virgo Sun & Sag Rising. Along with  Saturn in

Pisces crossing my 4th house in Pisces. When Saturn hits the 4th, most people either: move, renovate their life, confront their mother wound, or end a long-standing chapter; I DID ALL THE ABOVE. The year 2025 was my 12th House profection year. Baby, leading spirit lead instead of being logical was the toughest battle with myself as an Earth sign, but here we are."

---

I moved to Philadelphia with no concrete plan—no step-by-step blueprint, no guaranteed landing pad, no safety net other than faith. What I did have was a calling. A whisper that said: If you don’t move now, you’ll stay stuck in a place your spirit has already left.

This year has been a year of endings for me—ritual endings, necessary endings, endings I didn’t choose and endings I FINALLY had the courage to initiate. It’s also the Year of the Snake, also a 9-year, and the medicine of the Snake is shedding. Releasing what has expired. Making space for what’s next.

And moving to Philly was the biggest shedding of all.

Checking In With Myself: Why Philly? Why Now?

Every time someone asks, “Why Philadelphia?” I shrug and smile because the truth is simple: character development.

And with my Pluto in the 12th House Scorpio, that makes sense. That placement is all about deep transition—underground shifts, karmic shedding, ancestral unbinding. You don’t get to transform lightly with this signature. Especially not during a 12th House profection year. The transformation comes through leaving what is familiar, diving into the unknown, and trusting what cannot yet be seen.

So I check in with myself constantly:

• What led me here in the first place?

• If everything changed tomorrow, would I still want this choice for myself?

• Am I acting from alignment or from fear?

  
  

Hey, I never said I would stop Virgo-ing ya'll.

That’s also how I work through ADHD decision-making—slowing the urgency, tuning out the noise, and listening for the truth in my body. And even on hard days, and there have been many, the answer to all of those questions is still yes.

What I Learned About Betting on Myself

Making this move meant trusting myself even when the path wasn’t organized, optimized, or neatly planned the way a Virgo likes things to be.

It meant accepting:

• I didn’t have all the details.

• I didn’t know how everything would unfold.

• I was going to be uncomfortable.

• I might have to clean up some things from Illinois while building a new life here.

But I made the choice anyway.

What I’ve learned so far:

• A plan isn’t what saves you. Self-trust is.

• If fear is the only reason you’re staying, you’re already choosing the wrong thing.

• Betting on yourself will feel like chaos at first, but clarity comes after the leap.

• Your nervous system will catch up to the version of you your spirit voted for.

  
  

Betting on myself isn’t always clean or glamorous. But it has always been worth it.

Fear vs. Intuition

I’ve learned that fear and intuition show up differently for an empath like me:

"Fear tightens. Intuition expands."

Fear says: stay where it’s familiar so you don’t mess up. Intuition says: you’re outgrowing the familiar—keep going.

And truthfully? Staying in places I had spiritually outgrown was making me sick. Not always physically, but energetically and emotionally. Sometimes the body breaks down because the spirit has been trapped too long. Earlier this year, I experienced a breakup that had been a slow breakup for over a year. This kind of grief was new to my mind and body. Through the depths of this dark space, I found a gift I shunned from myself. Unconditional love & trust for myself. Then it happened double time. Chicago was my spouse. My teacher. My mirror. My companion through every version of me I’ve ever been. But the contract was now expiring. Now we are distant lovers connected by history, by memories, by the child we share together: the version of me that was born there. Like two people divorcing but co-parenting, I will always hold space for Chicago. I can visit, honor, and love it —but I no longer live there. I no longer belong to that home. I no longer fit inside that story. And just like my relationship, I didn’t leave in bitterness. I left in truth.

That’s what real endings look like

This move became a medicine. A clearing. A crossing.

I didn’t just cross state lines—I crossed spiritual ones too.

The Drive

I’ve never driven across the country on my own before, and this felt like the beginning of a new version of me—one who isn’t afraid to conquer the unknown. I’m proud of everything it took to get here: packing up my life, shipping my belongings, closing accounts, and trusting myself through every step. My prayer life has deepened in this season. Before hitting the road, I took a moment to pray alone and then with my mother, honoring the Egun who would be in the car with me as I crossed state lines. I never felt alone. I never got tired. I didn’t even take a long break. I drove straight through for 12 hours.

When I reached Lake Erie, the winds hit hard and my car started to sway. My father later told me there was a severe wind advisory in the exact area I was driving through—and honestly, it made sense. I had only checked for rain and snow; I was getting on that road regardless. But I didn’t panic. I prayed harder. I knew I was protected with the team I have on my side. I trusted that God needed me to keep moving.

And I did all of this with the worst toothache imaginable, by the way. And I’m still going. I’m so proud of me.

If someone out there is reading this while facing something that feels scary—do it anyway. Trust your people. Trust yourself. We’re not meant to see all the cards in our hand until it’s time for that card to be revealed. One card at a time, honey. No matter what, keep going.